Constant
by Sakrea
Summary: Dean didn't have many constants in his life, Castiel was one of them. Now, he's left only with an overcoat and an unkept promise. Rated for minor language. Only Destiel if you want to see it that way.


Well guys, this is my first Supernatural story that I really had no intention of writing.

Inspiration came from a lovely piece of art by socererhuntress on DA. I can't, at the moment, figure out how to link to the art though.

Hope I did okay with this, enjoy!

* * *

><p><em>There are certain things in life that are constant. There are simple things like; the rising and setting of the sun, we can all count of that. For each person though, it might not be so obvious. Say you have a loved one, a mother, a father, a lover, whatever the case may be. Perhaps each night or each morning they're the first person you see. Maybe you fall asleep to their breathing or wake up to their hand on your shoulder. Sometimes it's not even that apparent. There are cases when people find consistencies in absence. Maybe you know they won't be there, maybe that's good or maybe it's because you know they are out there, somewhere, watching over you as best as they can. <em>

_ Whether it is small or large, those constants in your life are a lifeline, especially to those who have nothing else to hang onto. _

"Can't believe we have to leave baby here." Dean grunted, slamming the door to the Impala irritably. He immediately caught his error, rubbed his hands across the door, and whispered apologies to the car.

"Dean, you know why we can't bring it." Sam replied, his tone suggesting he was repeating an overused argument. "The Leviathan are using the same car, the Feds would find us in a heartbeat."

"Yeah, yeah, I get it." The older Winchester huffed, his expression dangerously close to a pout. "Doesn't mean I have to like it."

"Just… " A heavy sigh, the characteristic sound of Sam reaching wits end. "Pack up the rest of the stuff, okay? The essentials, we need to travel light. Well, light_**er**_."

Sam slung a half full duffel bag over his shoulder, nodding at his brother. It was a motion that said 'I'll be waiting to talk to you when you're done complaining.' With that done, he turned and headed back toward Bobby's house, leaving his brother to finish up.

Being alone with his car, Dean spent most of his time internally lamenting the situation and caressing the roof of the Impala. This lasted a good ten minutes before the eldest Winchester made any move to finish packing as he was supposed to. Which of course meant digging out his best tapes to take on the trip. After all, he might be forced to leave his baby, but he could hardly be expected to give up his music.

"Metallic, AC/DC, Led Zeppelin…" he sighed, rattling off the basics as he crammed them into his disappointingly empty duffel bag. He really couldn't afford to take anymore though, just in case there was some mishap in which everything he had with him was whiped off the face of the earth. It had happened on more than one occasion. With that thought in mind, he returned his box of cassettes to their place on the floor of the car.

Dean shut the driver's side door and let his gaze fall on the place he really needed to get into to pack. His stomach clenched as he gingerly trailed his hand along the trunk of the black car. He dreaded opening the latch. It wasn't like he hadn't opened the trunk since then, but this time it was different. Not only was this likely the last time he would open this trunk in a long time, but it was also the last time he would see _it_ there until that time.

Screwing together his courage, Dean popped the latch and lifted the trunk. Even in the shadowy light of Bobby's garage, his eyes found it immediately, folded messily in the back of the trunk like it meant nothing. But it wasn't that, never that. It meant everything. Well, everything that was left.

That pale, stained fabric was all he had left of the only real friend Dean had ever had outside of his family. A being that had lost it all, taken it all, then given it all for his sake. He was someone who was so completely human, yet utterly not. He was man, he was angel, he was god. Not that any of it mattered. No, it didn't matter what he had been, what he had become. All that matter was he was family. Betrayal or not, that would never change.

Dean's hand reached out, slowly, unsteadily, toward Castiel's overcoat. He hadn't touched it since he'd put it there, still heavy with pond water, folded over in a damp heap. Every day he saw it, he made sure of it. Sam noticed of course, saw the way he paused whenever he caught sight of it. His brother thought seeing it just reminded him of what happened. Of course, part of it was that, how could he ever really forget?

Castiel had been a constant in Dean's life, one of the few. No matter what, he had known that the angel was out there, fighting for him, always fighting. There were times of course, when he knew he couldn't trust Cas, when they couldn't be on the same side, but not once did he ever lose faith in his intentions. Always, Cas had defended his actions by swearing it had all been for Dean. He could never doubt that, not once.

But Cas was gone, his constant, his stability, his lifeline, torn from his grasp mere minutes after he'd returned to them. In his place, he left only his coat, an item that was so utterly Castiel that in the weeks following his death, it was the only thing left for Dean to cling to. That overcoat, rumpled and dirty, lying in a heap in his trunk, had become it's own constant. Always there, never moving or changing, the last piece of Cas he had.

When the decision came to leave the Impala behind to chase after those things that had taken Castiel from him, he'd known what he had to do. The overcoat could not come with them. He couldn't risk losing it, he wasn't sure he could bear it.

Setting his jaw stubbornly, Dean's fist closed around the fabric, dragging it back toward him. It unfolded in his grip, revealing just how rumpled and dirty it truly was. He took it in both hands, opening it up across the shoulders.

The collar and neckline were stained with blood and black goo, faded though still obvious after it's dunk in that damned lake. Dean's thumbed rubbed carefully across one red blot. The fabric was surprisingly still soft, just like he remembered it.

"Dammit Cas…" Dean growled under his breath, his words catching lightly. Without even meaning to, his walls seemed crumble. It was a rare thing that could shake Dean Winchester; it was even rarer that it showed. Now, just this touch, just holding it caused the damn to flood and all of his emotions came rushing out.

_**BANG.**_

Dean's fist collided hard against the Impala's rear fender. It stayed there, aching not nearly enough to help and shaking ever so slightly. His other hand twisted the fabric of that dirty overcoat into his chest. Silently, tears rolled off his nose, dripping into the coat.

"You lied to me Cas… You stupid bastard, you lied…"

Dean slid to the ground, his knees ground into the gravel beneath him as he clutched the coat to him. The tears didn't just roll now; they came in torrents, pouring down his face in a way he hadn't known since he was a child. Silent sobs wracked his body, only forcing his hands to cling tighter to the one thing he had left.

He sat like that for a while, probably longer than he should. Had he thought about it, it was likely that Sam or Bobby had come out to see what was taking him so long, only to leave to give him privacy. But he didn't care, not now.

Finally, Dean eased his grip on the abused overcoat, letting it rest across his knees to get another last look at it. Covered in goo, blood, and tearstains as it was, this crappy coat was the most important thing the eldest Winchester owned. It needed to be protected, kept safe.

Brushing a thumb gingerly across the collar one final time, Dean folded the overcoat. Just as disheveled as it had been before, and nearly as damp, he pulled himself to his feet and set the bundle back in the trunk.

For a moment, his hand lingered atop the fabric, his chest heaving out a heavy sigh.

"Castiel, if you're out there, if you're alive…" Dean rumbled, his eyes flickering skyward, tears still glistening against his cheeks. "You better get your ass back here. You haven't redeemed a damn thing."


End file.
